Mask -Sequel to Legacy
by Ruby
Summary: The final story, of those who would have been, the saviors of the galaxy...


  
_A/N: I hope this clears up the confusion in Legacy. This is the last of the Secret series. Enjoy.   
  
Dedication: For my friend and beta-reader, Selina. Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou!   
For my friend and sis, Meridian. Love ya, and thanks for proofreading._   
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


  
She changed the world   
She defied fate   
But the memories stayed   
  
The world would have thanked her   
But five had to curse   
They lived their lives   
With feelings they did not know   
Memories they did not understand   
Could not control   
  
But the truth would be told   
And the past explained   
And _she_ would speak   
Tell them why   
  
The mask of their world will be shed   
The truth will be revealed   
And the faces   
Of the would-be-heroes   
Will be shown   
  
  
The final story, of those who would have been, the saviors of the galaxy:   
**  
MASK **

  
  
My name is Tim.   
And I know the truth.   
She told us. We met her, my friends, Robyn, Mike, Christine, John, and I. And she told us something. Something that changed our lives.   
She told us a secret that only she knew. But she said we deserved to know.   
At first I couldn't believe it. Yeerks, an alien invasion, Andalites. It was hard to believe that they could actually be real. But I felt like she was telling the truth.   
And the things we remembered. The bits and pieces. Fragments. They were too odd. They couldn't be explained. And we all had them. Different ones, of course, and when we talked about them, we remembered too. And when she told us about our past, it seemed so familiar, so real. Like those were our lives. We had to believe.   
She's long dead now. She had told us the truth. But no one else could know.   
We swore we'd take our secret to the grave. All of us.   
The others kept their promise. They're all gone now.   
And I'm about to join them. I am on my deathbed, as they say. I have just finished writing my will. I left a letter, and this manuscript which I wrote long ago, to an Andalite by the name of Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill.   
I once wrote this for the time the Andalites would come, and the truth could be let know. But they have not come.   
So I will break my promise. I will tell him the truth, and reveal our secret. Because he deserves to know.   
After all, he is my uncle. And he was one of us. Elfangor is dead, or so she told us, but Ax is still here. And this secret of ours must be told.   
It's hard to explain, really. Time is a complicated thing.   
We are, were, well, I don't really know what tense to use. The short of it is, we're the Animorphs. _The_ Animorphs.   
Except my name's not Tobias. It's Tim.   
And while I've heard of Ax, I've never met him.   
We never fought the Yeerks.   
The Animorphs never existed. And yet, she knew.   
_  
Chapter One-Tim _  
  
It all started on a Friday. I was coming home from a long flight across the Atlantic.   
I'm a pilot, if that explains anything. I fly those big 747's, the ones that fly halfway around the world. It's alright, I suppose. I mean, I've always wanted to do that. Fly, I mean. But it's never...it never seems real to me. Like I'm trapped. And in a way, I am. Inside a big metal box that was never meant to fly. I want to fly like the birds. _With_ the birds. I suppose that doesn't make any sense.   
I lived in a high rise condo. I figured since I wasn't even in the same country half the time, there was no point in settling down and buying a house.   
I trudged down the hall, suitcase in hand. My left hand tried to keep a grip on my coat while my right fumbled for the keys. I finally found them in the depth of my pant pocket.   
I shoved the metal point into the slot and twisted it. The lock popped open. Tired, I pushed the door open, took a step forward...and fell flat on my face.   
I rolled over and let go of my coat, suitcase, and keys, which had been scattered haphazardly.   
There was a box sitting at my doorstep. That was what I had tripped over. It was a plain box. Brown cardboard, about the size of a shoebox.   
I crawled up on my knees and pulled it to me. There was a small bit of tape that held it closed which I ripped off. I took of the top to reveal a mass of tissue paper. In the center was the object of delivery.   
It was a model airplane. Not just any airplane. It was painted, painted with feathers and eyes and a beak. Painted as a bird. At the tail was a feather. A single rusty tail feather.   
There was a note.   
_  
Tim,   
You do not know me, but I know you. I know your accomplishments, and I know you fly. I also know something you do not. I know why you fly. If you want answers, come. _  
  
There was also an address.   
I sat there in a stupor and stared at that note for a good twenty minutes. Then I collected myself and got up and closed the door.   
The meeting was to start at 7:00, an hour from now. The address was across town.   
I grabbed my coat and my keys and left, not bothering to unpack.   
Every memory. Every memory I could not explain. Every memory had been about flying. God, if they knew...   
If this person really, _really_, could explain the memories that had plagued me since my childhood, I could not afford to let this opportunity pass by. I wanted the truth.   
_  
Chapter Two-Robyn _  
  
I took another drink from the bottle of beer. The burning sensation tingled down my esophagus and spread like a warm fire. It felt nice. Better than that pain. Much better than the pain.   
Brian hated me. I knew he did. The way he looked at me with that pained expression on his face, like he wanted to say, 'I pity you, Robyn,' but didn't want to hurt my feelings. Hurt my feelings. Ha. That's funny. That's really funny.   
I peered at the bottle in the dim light. It was empty. At least, it looked empty. It was too dark inside to see clearly. I pulled myself up and stumbled to the window, which was covered by blinds.   
I pulled back the corner, only to reconcile as the sharp rays of sun hit my face. Too bright. Way too bright. My head hurt.   
I made my way over to the kitchen to get another bottle. The fridge was empty. I kicked it, then grabbed my keys. Screw this, I had some money. I'd go out to a bar and get myself drunk properly.   
I yanked open the door and marched out.   
I ended up sprawled out on my face in the middle of the hallway.   
I flipped myself over and stared at the box I had tripped over. It was plain white cardboard. Pretty big. I wondered how I missed it.   
I sighed and hauled the thing inside.   
I grabbed a pair of scissors, and after ten minutes of attack, I had removed the layers of tape.   
I opened it. There was a short note lying on top of a layer of tissue paper.   
I picked it up and scanned it.   
_  
Robyn. I know you don't trust easily, but trust me. Come. I know why. _  
  
There was an address below that.   
At first, I thought it was a prank. It had to be a prank.   
_I know why. _  
What did this person know? Why...why I killed David? Could... No... Unless...   
I stared at that piece of paper for a long time, and I knew I had to go. I had to know.   
I lifted the tissue paper. Inside was a poster mounted in a frame. It was a woman, a woman who was quite familiar. On the bottom right-hand corner was a single word. I knew what it was without even looking at it. _Xena. _  
Xena? That was me.   
_  
Chapter Three-Christine _  
  
"Chris!" I looked up.   
"Hey, Mari." I took the pile of paper from her.   
"Thanks. Oh, and you got this." She fumbled through the pile of letters in her other arm and pulled out a single envelope with triumph. "Here!"   
I took it from her, curious. "Thanks, Mari." I turned the envelope in my hands.   
It was addressed to me, but there was no return address. I opened it.   
Inside were a note and a stack of pictures. I glanced at the pictures.   
The top one was of a girl. She couldn't have been more than six or seven years old. She looked remarkably familiar. She was wearing a dress, and the background was grayish-blue. Her red curls cascaded around her face, framing her bright green eyes. It was a school picture.   
My heart hammered in my chest and I had the urge to cry. I knew her. And yet, I had never seen her in my life. One part of my head was screaming, _No, no, no! It can't be!_ while the other part said, _It is. Yes, it's her. It's her. _  
I quickly shoved the photo to the back of the stack.   
A serious girl stared back at me. Her red hair was cut short and straightened. She was dressed in a graduation gown, probably her high school graduation picture. It was the same girl.   
My breath came in quick little gasps. It couldn't be. It just couldn't be.   
The next picture was the same girl, a few years older. Probably her college graduation. I noticed the tassel. Summa cum laude.   
Under that was a newspaper article. "Cure For AIDS".   
_Dr. Karen Padowski of Harvard Medical University recently published in the New England Medical Journal her latest research concerning AIDS. A new drug PIDMP has been tested and found to have cured 50% patients of AIDS in a recent study. No serious side effects have been observed. The FDA is expected to grant approval for the new drug within the next few months. _  
Karen.   
Fumbling, I pulled out my wallet from the back pocket of my jeans. Inside was the piece of notebook paper I had carried with me for the past twenty years.   
That little girl stared back at me. The same little girl in the pictures.   
How could someone know this?   
Trembling, I opened the note.   
_  
Chris, look at the picture. I know you recognize her. I can tell you why. I can tell you who she is. I can tell you who Aftran is. I can tell you everything. Come. You won't regret it. _  
  
I slowly folded the note and put it in my pocket. It had said I was to be at an address in the city that night. But I was supposed to fly out to Rwanda to help with the refugee problem in a few hours.   
"Mari."   
She looked up. "Yeah?"   
"See if Ryan can go tonight instead. Something's come up, and I can't make it."   
She blinked. "You mean the Rwanda trip? You've been waiting months to get permission to go down there!"   
"Yeah..." My throat was dry. "But something's happened. I gotta go. See you later, Mari."   
And I left to find the truth.   
_  
Chapter Four-John _  
  
THUMP!   
I jumped, my heart racing. That had scared the shit out of me.   
"Be careful, John."   
"Don't talk to yourself."   
"Why not?"   
"It's not normal."   
"Shut up."   
I carefully made my way over to the door and listened. There were no sounds.   
Quickly, I unlocked the six sets of deadbolts. You can never be too careful.   
It was a box. A very plain-looking box.   
I jumped back. It could be a bomb.   
I grabbed an umbrella and threw it at the box. I pulled myself into a ball behind my bulletproof, fireproof door, expecting the white-hot blast.   
Nothing happened.   
Tentatively, I looked around the door. Nothing seemed to be wrong with the box.   
I hesitated, but picked up the box and brought it in. A leap of faith based on some instinct in the back of my mind.   
I yanked the tape off and opened it. The first thing I saw was the note.   
_  
Dear John,   
I know you don't trust me, and I don't have much proof that you can, but I hope you will come. I understand you. I understand what you want, and why. Let me tell you. For your sake, for all our sakes, come. _  
  
Beneath it was a picture. A hand drawn colored pencil sketch of a tiger. Below it were the words _Prince John. _  
I stared at it, and somehow, I remembered those words being spoken to me. Many, many times.   
That tiger, that _Prince_, was me. I had a duty. I would go.   
_  
Chapter Five-Michael _  
  
I rewound the tape again, and when it was done, pushed Play.   
Laughter floated through the air. "Hey, Mike, I am trusting you with my best friend here! You _better_ take care of her or I'll go over there and beat you up, you hear?" More laughter.   
I fast-forwarded it.   
"Hey, man, good luck!" A high-five and a handshake. John. I wondered what happened to him.   
I fast-forwarded it again.   
"All right! Here's the big moment!" Music played.   
"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride." The man and woman onscreen kissed to the cheers of their friends and family.   
I turned the TV off. Carla wasn't coming back. She didn't love me anymore. She probably had a new husband by now.   
Ding-dong. It was the doorbell.   
I sighed. I really didn't want to see anyone right now. But if it was Carla... Or the kids... I knew the chances were one in a billion, no, less than that. Still, I got up and walked over to the door, hoping it was Carla.   
It wasn't. Why was I surprised?   
The guy handed me a clipboard. "Michael...er..." He hesitated.   
I told him my last name, which for some reason most people can't pronounce. It's not _that_ hard.   
He nodded. "Okay. You've got a package. Just sign right here." He pointed to a line at the bottom of a form.   
I took his pen and signed.   
He handed the package with a smile. "Have a nice day."   
I wondered if it was from Carla, even though I knew it wasn't. Carla. Only then did I realize the significance of the date. It was our anniversary, or at least, what should have been our anniversary. She left me five years ago and took the kids.   
June, Amy, and Bobby. Little Bobby. He was only seven months old. I'd only seen them a few times since then. I wondered if they ever thought about me.   
I remember the box in my arms and set it down on the floor. My apartment didn't have much furniture. I'd sort of ignored everything.   
I felt my way through layer upon layer of tissue paper. My hand hit something cold and solid. I grasped it and pulled out.   
It was a picture frame, or rather, a picture.   
A picture of my mom.   
I held it to my chest, and cried.   
_  
Chapter Six-Michael _  
  
I looked up at the house, then back at the address. Yep, this was the place.   
A note had come with the picture. I read it over again.   
_  
Michael.   
I know what happened to your mom. I know it hurts. I know what's happened in your life because of it, but, if you would like, I have some answers. Come. I think it would be for the best. _  
  
A drop of liquid splattered on my forehead. I looked up. It was raining.   
"Hello."   
I looked over and saw that there was a young woman beside me. She was about my height, which is pretty short, with chocolate skin and deep brown eyes. "Hi."   
She looked up at the building. "Is that..." She glanced at a piece of paper in her hand. "Yeah..."   
"Are you here because..."   
She looked at me. Slowly, she handed me the paper in her hand.   
I stared at it. It was a letter. Almost the same letter I had gotten, but with different wording. The same address. The same time. The same command: Come.   
I handed it back to her and looked at the door. "I guess we go in."   
She nodded. "We're a bit early though..."   
"Only by a few minutes." I tried the door handle. It was unlocked.   
We went inside. The hallway was simply decorated, but looked welcoming. I suddenly felt at ease.   
The woman beside me looked around. "I suppose we put our coats up..." She hesitated but took her jacket off. I did the same.   
"Hello? Anyone here?" I called out.   
"Just go in the dining room to the left, dear. I'll be out soon."   
I jumped at the voice. "Who said that?"   
No answer.   
I let out a long breath. "Well, I guess we do what she said."   
The door to the dining room was just to the left, as she said.   
I stepped in and looked around. There were six chairs around a table. At five of the places were place cards. I read them as I walked by. "Robyn, Christine, Tim, John, Michael."   
"Well," I said, pulling my seat out. "I guess that would be me." I looked at the woman standing across the table. "I take it you're either Robyn or Christine?"   
"Chris." She nodded.   
"Mike." I stuck my hand out and she shook it.   
A silence fell on us. There wasn't much to say, that is, until the rest of us got there.   
_  
Chapter Seven-Robyn _  
  
I peered at the numbers on the house. This was the right place. I wondered if I should go ring the doorbell.   
Footsteps pounded on the sidewalk behind me.   
"Shit! Why did it have to rain?" Someone mumbled.   
I turned to see a man, about my age, with dirty blond hair and blue eyes. He was trying to cover his head with a briefcase.   
I smiled at his antics. Then I realized that it was raining. I hadn't been paying attention. I was quite wet, having been in the rain for the past five minutes.   
The man blushed. "You heard me, didn't you? Sorry." He looked me up and down. "You don't have an umbrella? Here," He offered his briefcase, "you can use this."   
I shook my head. "That's okay. I'm not going to get any wetter."   
He grinned. "I'm Tim."   
"Robyn."   
"Let's go inside before we get any wetter, hmm?"   
I blinked. He was here for this meeting as well? I had thought it was private. After all, was I to share my problems with the world?   
"Yeah..." I muttered, lost in my thoughts.   
He pressed the doorbell. We waited, but there was no sign anyone in the house had heard. He frowned. "Maybe the doorbell doesn't work." He knocked on the door. Still no response.   
I reached over and pressed down on the handle. I had learned from policework that a lot of people left their doors unlocked, especially in the suburbs. The door pushed in.   
Tim looked at me in surprise. "Well, I suppose the direct approach always works."   
Once inside, Tim took off his long coat and put it in the closet, and moved to take mine.   
"Thanks." I handed it to him gratefully.   
He put it up. "Hey, look, Robyn. I don't know how long this thing's going to be, but afterwards, you want to get some coffee?"   
I stared at him. He was asking me out. I was technically dating Brian, but I hadn't talked to him in a while. And this guy was handsome, in an innocent sort of way. He was nice, sweet. I liked him. Still, I knew I loved Brian. I opened my mouth to say, 'Sorry, I've got a boyfriend,' but what came out was. "I'll think about it."   
He nodded and smiled. "Okay."   
The moment got awkward. "Anyone here?" I asked loudly.   
"In the living room!"   
I followed the sound of the voice to what I presumed to be the living room. There were two people already there. A man and a woman. They looked familiar somehow.   
The woman stood up. "I'm Christine."   
I shook her hand. "Robyn."   
We stared at each other for a moment.   
"Chris?" I whispered.   
"Robyn!" She hugged me. "Wow, I can't believe this! I haven't seen you for twenty years!"   
"Oh, Chris, I've missed you. What are you doing here?"   
"I got a letter, and I _had_ to come."   
I thought about my letter. "Well, I guess I'm not the only weird one after all."   
_  
Chapter Eight-Michael _  
  
I stared at the two women. It couldn't be. _Chris?_ That girl that my old friend John used to stare at during math class? And Robyn? John's cousin, who was best friends with Chris? This didn't make any sense.   
And yet, they looked familiar. Chris. Robyn. Yeah, it was right.   
"Hey." I stood up. "I'm Mike. I...I think we went to school together. At least, until I moved."   
Robyn peered at me. "Mikey? John's friend? Is that you?"   
I frowned. "Don't call me Mikey."   
Chris shook her head. "This is too weird." She looked at the man who had come in with Robyn. He was quietly standing by the wall. "I don't suppose you went to our school too?" She told him the name of the school.   
The man frowned with concentration. "Well, I think I might have for a few months. My name's Tim, by the way. It sounds familiar. I was at _some_ school right before I was shipped off to a foster home."   
The room got cold very quickly.   
"Something is very wrong here." Robyn whispered.   
I agreed. This was too much to be a coincidence. "This is _insane_."   
Robyn looked at me like I had sprouted blue wings. "_What did you say?_"   
I blinked, confused. "I said 'This is...'" I stopped. "Oh my God."   
"What?" Chris asked.   
"I've said that before, haven't I? I've said that before a lot."   
Robyn looked around at our little group. "This is _too_ familiar. We've been like this before. Together. At a meeting."   
"There's someone missing." Chris whispered. "Someone..."   
There was a knock. We all jumped.   
A man stood at the door. "Hi."   
I stared, and I couldn't believe it. He was twenty years older, had five days growth, and rumpled, dirty clothes, but I still recognized him. "John?"   
He stared at me. "Mike?"   
Robyn looked around. "I guess this is our little group."   
"No." Tim interrupted. "There's someone else. _Two_ someone elses."   
"You are correct."   
We all looked up, and there she was, standing in the doorway.   
_  
Chapter Nine-Tim _  
  
I stared at her. She was pretty old. In her 60's, I guess. She had dark brown hair with strands of white and gray mixed in. She looked like the grandmother type, real nice, supportive, but also strong and firm.   
"My name is Katherine."   
The mood in the room suddenly got very tense. For a moment there, we had been caught up in a 'reunion' type atmosphere. Nevermind that we had never been a group before. But when she walked in, things weren't quite so cheery anymore, as if we were remembering what had happened after the last time she joined.   
Everyone was very quiet. We all knew what she had to say was important. We just didn't know how much.   
"I have a story to tell. I think that it is one you need to hear, so sit down."   
We did, each in the seat with our name on the place card.   
Katherine looked at us before she began. "I tell you my name is Katherine, but I have another name. I have been another person. I have lived in another time, another world."   
Her words were cryptic, like something out of a fantasy book, but I believed her. We all believed her. She was not just talking about herself; she was talking about us too.   
"Before you can hear my story, you must understand yours. I know you remember. Not all, but some. Perhaps, if you did not, I would have left you to be; to live out your lives never knowing, normal mundane lives. But you do remember. And it has changed you. You are not normal. You can never be normal. I understand that now. Now, you must understand as well."   
We looked at each other with questions in our eyes, but we did not question the truth of what she said. We remembered enough.   
Katherine turned to Robyn. "Tell us your story."   
Robyn looked startled to be singled out, but she cleared her throat and began. "My name Robyn, and well, I don't really know _why_ I'm here." She glanced at Katherine. "You invited me here."   
Katherine gave her an encouraging smile.   
"And my life? Well, it's pretty messed up right about now." She bit her lip. "I'm suspended without pay, they're investigating me, and they're going to charge me with murder. I know it. I killed the guy, you know. Don't know why I'm telling you this, but it's true. I don't even know _why_." She looked like she wasn't going to cry. "_I_ don't even know why I did it, how could anyone else? I didn't even know the kid. God, I just hate him so much. My life is such a fucked up mess." She hit her fist against the table. "And Brian... I love him, but this whole mess... I don't know what he thinks of me now. I'm a murderer, for godsake. He must hate me, but..." Robyn began to cry. "How could my life end up like this?"   
The room was silent. It was weird, hearing Robyn babble her entire life out to us, but at the same time, it felt right.   
"John why don't you tell us about yourself?"   
John licked his lips and nodded. "I'm, I'm kinda paranoid, I guess. I look around and I see the enemy everywhere."   
"Who's the enemy, John?" Katherine asked.   
"I don't know." He whispered hoarsely. "That's the scary part, I guess. I don't know who they are or what they want."   
"Then why are you afraid?"   
"I don't know. Why am I telling you this anyway?" He demanded suddenly. "For all I know, you could be one of _them_."   
"I'm not the enemy, John." Katherine whispered.   
John looked away. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."   
"Okay." Katherine nodded. "Michael?"   
Mike cleared his throat. "I'm, uh, a kind of recluse, I guess. Ever since Mom and Dad died. Don't even know why I bothered to come here."   
"How did they die?"   
"Boating accident. Mom loved sailing. They went out one day and never came back. That was six years ago. Never got over it. I always thought she was still alive. Couldn't believe she was dead. Still can't really convince myself of it, but I'm trying." Mike stopped suddenly. His voice changed to that of a little kid. "She's not dead. She can't be dead." His face was hidden by his hunched shoulders and crossed arms, but I was sure he was crying. "You promised, Mom. You promised you'd never leave."   
Christine stared at Katherine. "What do you think you're doing?" She demanded. "You're making their lives worse by dragging all this out. What are you trying to accomplish?"   
"The truth." Katherine whispered.   
"The truth?" Christine snapped. "Well, I think in this case, the truth would be better off buried."   
"Why? Why, Christine? What do you have to hide?" Katherine looked at Christine in a calm way, as if she was reading her thoughts.   
Christine flinched. "Karen."   
"What about her?"   
"She haunts me. Not like ghost-haunt, but I can't get her out of my mind. I can't have any peace. I've tried everything. Taking care of animals wasn't enough anymore. I needed to do more, but I didn't know what I needed to do. I volunteered, I went down to places where epidemics raged, risked my life, and still, it wasn't enough. There was something else I needed to do. I don't know what it is. I've been trying to find it all my life."   
"All your life?"   
"Ever since I drew this picture." She reached inside her pocket and took out a tattered piece of notebook paper.   
I stared at it. It was a picture of a young girl, with something in her head.   
"Sometimes," Christine whispered, "I want to kill her. Because I know she will destroy us in the end. Other times, I pity. And sometimes, she is a friend, as close as a sister."   
"Do you want to know why?" Katherine asked. "Why you seek this peace you cannot have."   
"Yes."   
"Then be glad you came."   
_  
Chapter Ten-Robyn _  
  
It was strange, but as I listened to Katherine talk to Christine, I began to understand. I couldn't form it into concrete thoughts, but the idea was forming in my head. Somehow, what she said made sense.   
Katherine looked at Tim. "Do you understand?"   
His hand was shaking. "I fly. I fly in a plane, but I want to fly like a bird. One of these days I'll probably kill myself trying to do that, but yeah, I understand. We all want something that we can't have. We don't know why, but you do. So tell us. Tell us your secret, Katherine."   
Katherine smiled. "You're right. Now it's my turn. I'm going to tell you a story, and when I'm done, I think you'll understand. Please don't interrupt, just listen."   
John and Michael looked up. We were all waiting expectantly.   
Katherine rubbed her hands nervously. "There once was a young girl. Her name was Melissa Chapman."   
Tim inhaled sharply.   
"She did a lot of things, and changed this world. She went back in time and altered the future. She killed her father."   
Tim gasped. "Chapman?"   
"You've read Animorphs?" Katherine looked up.   
Tim nodded slowly. "You're K. A. Applegate!"   
"Yes, I am." She paused. "You understand, I _am_ Melissa Chapman."   
"What does that mean?" I demanded.   
I saw the blood drain out of Tim's face. "It means they're real. The books are real."   
"Not exactly, Tim. It means the Yeerks are real, and the Andalites are real, but they're not here."   
"But us..." Tim looked around. "They're us. Or I guess we're them."   
"What are you talking about?" Christine asked.   
Tim pointed at her. "You're Cassie." He turned to John. "Jake." Michael. "Marco." Me. "Rachel." And himself. "And I'm Tobias."   
"Correct." Katherine nodded. "Turn over your place cards."   
I did so. On the back was scribbled a name. _Rachel. _  
"But you..." Tim looked at Katherine, puzzled, then his face suddenly cleared. "Chapman... my God, you killed Chapman." Tim gasped, finally understanding. "You went back in time and killed him before the Skirt Na got to him. The Yeerks...they didn't know. They didn't even know Earth existed. That's why we're not all Controllers."   
"What are you talking about?" John demanded.   
"Didn't you ever read Animorphs?" Tim asked.   
"I did." Christine whispered. "I liked how the kids could get into the minds of animals, but after a while I just kind of grew out of them."   
"Not me." Tim smiled wryly. "I never grew out of them. I even had the transformers, even though they looked pretty stupid."   
Katherine sighed. "You're right, Tim. I killed him. But somehow, I lived. A new body, a new life, but somehow, the memories stayed. The memories always stay."   
"Is that why we still have these memories?" Tim asked.   
She shrugged. "Time is a complicated thing to mess with. We always retain a memory of the other timeline, depending on how much it affected us. Changes in time do not occur regularly, so its effects are not quite determined."   
"Did the Ellimist tell you this?" Tim asked.   
"Well, I call her Theresa, but yes. You were the Animorphs. You're lives completely revolved around the conflict with the Yeerks. So much that it still affects you today. Think. Why do you want to fly, Tim? John, who is the enemy? Mike, why do think your mother's still alive? Christine, what is it you _really_ want? Robyn, why did you kill David?"   
Christine leaned forward, and I could see understanding in her eyes. "I want peace. Peace with a Yeerk who isn't here. Peace with a war that was never fought." Christine blinked several times to keep the tears from falling.   
John wrinkled his brows, an expression of deep thought on his face. "The Yeerks? They're the enemy?"   
"Yes." Katherine nodded.   
I think Tim understood perfectly what she was talking about, because he began explaining. "I was a bird. So I wanted to fly. Mike, in this other reality, your mother was a Controller. One of the first. She was host to one of the most powerful Yeerks in the empire –Visser One. Her death was faked so the Yeerks could leave Earth."   
Mike's face crumpled. "I remember. She took the boat out. There was a storm that night. They never found a body."   
Katherine patted his hand. "Mike, this time, they're really dead, you see? This time, it was _truly_ an accident. Not faked. You have to move on."   
Mike slowly nodded.   
Tim looked at me. "Do you remember what David did?"   
And at that moment, I did remember. I remembered the rat. The way we met him. What he did. And what I finally did to him. "He betrayed us."   
"Yes." Tim said very quietly. "He did."   
From the looks on the others' faces, I could tell they remembered too.   
"Do you understand why you killed him now?"   
I nodded. "I wanted revenge. I wanted to make him pay. He wasn't trapped, so he would die." I looked at my hands, my hands that had fired that trigger, that had killed David. They were stained with a blood that could not be see, but still, they were stained. But at that moment, I understood. I understood myself. And I knew, I knew I could forgive myself as well.   
_  
Chapter Eleven-Christine _  
  
Katherine told us the story. The _whole_ story. The story of the Animorphs, who she said weren't really called the 'Animorphs', but rather 'the Changelings'. It was a name no one ever used more than once. We were a group, a team. We didn't care much for names. Mike came up with it, apparently. No wonder no one used it.   
She said a lot of what she knew either the 'other' us told her, or Theresa explained it to her.   
Of course, a lot of stuff in the books wasn't true. Katherine had made that up. After all, we never survived long enough to have all those adventures. But the main parts were true.   
And then she told us how it ended. How we died. It scared me, but it also made me admire Katherine, or Mel, as she called herself. She had been through a lot, she had sacrificed a lot, but in the end, she had saved the world.   
She explained the changes in time, how I somehow helped us retain our memories, how she kept this world stable. I didn't really understand.   
And when her tale was finished, she explained to us how she researched us, with Theresa's help, of course. How she realized that we were at a breaking point. The memories were just too much. The memories made Robyn commit cold-blooded murder, and that was the last straw to Katherine. She decided to tell us the truth, because, as she said, we deserved to know.   
Tim looked around at us all. "So now what?"   
Katherine shrugged. "You get on with your lives. Hopefully, they'll be better now that you understand."   
I bit my lip. "I think I'll go back. My parents sold the farm, and they're retired now, but I can buy it again. Open up a rehab center like my dad's. If I can get the funding."   
"Hey." Marco smiled. "I used to be head of a computer company. I left it to my partner after things fell apart, but maybe he'll let me back in."   
John chuckled. "I've always thought I might like teaching." He blushed. "Don't ask me why, I just do. Hey, if I can't lead a team of warriors into battle, I can always lead a group of kids into life." He looked thoughtful. "I've still got that degree. It sounds useless, but maybe I can go back. Go to our old high school and be a coach. Basketball. Yeah," he smiled, "I'd like that."   
Tim smiled. "I guess I'll just keep on flying. Maybe do a little writing on the side. Always liked writing. I just won't go bungee jumping anymore."   
Robyn cracked a smile. "I don't have much to look forwards too. Just a trial. _I_ understand, but I don't think you can plead 'Not Guilty by Strange Memories From a Different Timeline'. Don't know what I'm going to do after that."   
I chuckled at that.   
Katherine took Robyn's hand in hers. "What is it you want most?"   
"David dead?"   
"Why do you want him dead?"   
"Revenge. Justice."   
"Justice. There's your answer."   
"What?"   
"You can't go back to police work. But the streets aren't the only place you can serve justice."   
"I've always admired my mom. She...she was a really good lawyer."   
"And why can't you be the same?"   
Robyn smiled a genuine smile. "Maybe I can. I started law school once, but never finished. But I can try again." Her face suddenly fell. "But what about the trial? There's a lot of evidence against me. What if they send me to jail?"   
Katherine patted Robyn's hand. "Don't worry about that. I'm sure Theresa can work in a 'Not Guilty' verdict."   
_  
Chapter Twelve-Tim _  
  
We sort of mutually agree to leave after that. Everything that needed to be said had been said. The secret was out. We would get on with our lives.   
Robyn pulled me over. "Tim, look, uh, I don't know about these books, but I do know about what I remember, and... I killed David as much for you as for Brian."   
I nodded, not sure of the direction she was going.   
She looked determined to say what she had to say without running around in circles. "I think I was in love with you. I'd have to read the books to be sure, but... I love Brian. I still do. And I hope he loves me." She stroked my cheek. "I'm sorry, Tim. I'd liked to have loved you. You're a wonderful person, but, everything's different now."   
I took her hand in mine. "It's alright. I feel the same way. Times have changed. Be happy with Brian."   
"You don't mind?"   
"I have to admit, when I first realized what this meant, I was hoping to get together with 'Rachel'. I've never had a girlfriend. But then, I talked with you, and you weren't Rachel. You're Robyn. You're two different people. If things had happened that way, maybe there could have been something for us, but you and me, we're not Rachel and Tobias. We could have been, but we're not. Go live your life and be happy."   
Robyn smiled. "Thanks." She reached up and kissed me on the cheek. "But that doesn't mean we can't be friends."   
Robyn gave each of us a hug and hailed a taxi. "Thanks, guys. I've got a guy waiting for me. I've got a life ahead of me. No matter what happens, I'll be okay."   
Katherine had a smile on her lips.   
I looked over at her. "What do you think?"   
"I think we'll be invited to a wedding very soon."   
I laughed. "We better be."   
Mike, who had been talking to John, came over. He shook Katherine's hand. "Thanks. I've done some thinking. You're right. Time to move on." He bit his lip. "I've got a wife and three kids. Well, she used to be my wife. I hope she can be again. I'm going to go back home and ask her for her forgiveness. I hope she takes me back."   
I shook his hand. "Good luck, man."   
He nodded. "Thanks. Be seeing you."   
Mike hailed a taxi and jumped in, yelling, "Home!"   
I smiled. "That makes two."   
Katherine nodded at a pair a ways off. "I think you can add two more to the list."   
I looked over at John and Christine. They were completely absorbed in themselves, but I could hear their conversation.   
John looked at Christine. "You, uh, remember the year we graduated?"   
"Yeah?"   
"Well, on prom night, there was a meteor shower. I was out with some of my buddies watching for aliens." John smiled at the last part. "But part of me had wanted to go the prom. And if had, I would have wanted to take you."   
Christine smiled. "That would have been nice."   
John sighed. "Look, our lives have been pretty weird up to now, but since we know what's behind it, what do you say we start living our lives again."   
Christine took his hand. "That would be nice too."   
John smiled at her. "You want some coffee?"   
"Yeah."   
"My car's down the road. There's this real nice place down on Queen Street..."   
"Let's go."   
The two walked away, hand in hand, oblivious to the world.   
I smiled at their retreating backs. "They seem happy."   
Katherine smiled. "It takes time to heal, but they're on the right track. It's never to late to find happiness."   
I sighed. "How come it worked out for them, but not me and Robyn?"   
"Still bitter about that?"   
"No, just curious."   
Katherine laughed. "You'll find a girl yet, Tim." Then she turned serious. "The only reason you and Robyn would have met is the war. Christine and John were good friends long before your lives were changed."   
I nodded slowly. "So this is it?"   
Katherine looked at me curiously. "Don't you want it to be the end?"   
I thought about that. "No, not really. Stories don't just end. There's the story of the Animorphs. The story of Mel. And the story of us, of the masks we have. Now's not the right time, but someday, someday I'd like the world to know our story."   
"When the Andalites come, if they ever do?"   
"I suppose. But I think I would like to write our story. I can't tell it alone, I need your help, and the others, but I think I would like a record of this. Even if no one ever reads it, this is a piece of history. A time that deserves to be remembered."   
Katherine nodded. "I think you're right about that, Tim. I had a secret. You have a mask. That time has a legacy, one that will never die." 

***

  
Sometimes, I wonder which timeline would have been better. I suppose, for everyone else, the rest of the world, all those Controllers, their families, this one is better. But for me, I don't know. I really don't.   
I hated my childhood. But my adult life, at least, after I met Katherine, was fulfilling and joyful. After all, the timelines were messed with. The original one was probably better in the long run. I'd like to think meeting the rest of the galaxy would have been good for Earth. Crayak's was just plain ruinous to all, even the Yeerks, since they remained evil, and they were not born to be evil. And this one, Katherine's timeline, is better in the short run. No one knows what will happen in the future, but for now, the world and its people are happier.   
But for us Animorphs, what is better? To spend your life fighting for the sake of freedom, for the sake of your people and the galaxy, or, to live out a normal life that is punctured by the feeling that something is wrong with the world.   
It's weird. Katherine tried to explain it to me. About the Ellimist, or Theresa, as she calls her. You see, time has been messed with, but it was Katherine who did that, not the Ellimist. He didn't break the rules. Ellimist and Crayak had a deal. One change each. Crayak made Chapman speed up the plan to take his daughter. Ellimist convinced Mel to do what she did.   
But none of it could ever work completely. Christine. They both knew about Christine. Knew she would make us remember. But the Ellimist also knew about Melissa. Knew what she was. A catalyst. Someone who could change the very fabric of space and time. She had a power like the Ellimist's, but it was one she did not understand and could not control.   
The result is this.   
A semi-stable, re-designed timeline. Crayak could not destroy it, because he did not create it. Ellimist had no power either. Only Melissa could undo what she created. And Melissa did not even know her power.   
But now Melissa is Katherine. And now, this world has existed for fifty years. According to the Ellimist, Katherine's presence counter-balanced Christine. This world will survive.   
And when they die, when Katherine dies, this timeline will become permanent. Unchangeable. Forever. No one, not the Ellimist, not Crayak, will be able to change it again, because the one person who could will be dead.   
It's funny. Sometimes I think the Ellimist planned it this way. All of it. Used Katherine. Used her power. Used us all. But none of that really matters. If the Ellimist is willing to give up his power to protect the universe from being changed, then so be it.   
I can't say if this world is better, but I know better than to try to change time. This world, for better or worse, is what we have.   
And us, this is who we are, I suppose. We didn't save the world, but we have to deal with the consequences of not doing what we were destined to do.   
  
If you are reading this, you can believe, or not. It is a tale of a time that never existed, a world that never came to be, a girl who changed the galaxy, even though she was never born. I suppose you could call this the story of the Animorphs. I call it Katherine's story. After all, she recorded the other timeline, even the ending no one outside of our group has known.   
This is the final story of those who would have been the saviors of the galaxy.   
_  
Epilogue-Fifty years later _  
  
A man walked down the street, looking at the house numbers. Finally, he stopped in front of an old, but well-kept house. He walked up the steps and knocked.   
A young lady opened the door. "Yes?"   
"Does a man named Tim live here?" He asked.   
The woman looked startled. "Oh. That's my grandfather."   
"May I speak to him?"   
She shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry, but he died last week." She looked at the man and studied him carefully. "Did you know him?"   
The man slowly nodded. "My elder brother knew him, and he asked me to come."   
"Oh. Well, what happened to your brother?"   
"He died a long time ago."   
The woman frowned. This man was very unusual. She hesitated, then decided to trust him. "Would you like to come in?"   
The man nodded and followed her into the home.   
"Grandfather left this place to me." She said as she led the man down the hallway. "I always spent my summers here, and now, it's my home."   
They entered a bright kitchen.   
"Who did you say you were?" The woman asked.   
"My name is Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill."   
The woman stared at the man. "Aximili..." She opened a drawer and brought out a large, bulky envelope. "Grandfather mentioned you in his will. He said that this was for you, and that no one else could ever open it." She handed him the envelope.   
Aximili took it and stared at the yellow package. He looked up at the woman. "Thank you."   
She nodded. "No problem."   
Aximili turned and walked out of the house. He walked down the street to a small park, where he sat down on a bench and opened the envelope.   
Inside was a stack of papers, bounded together like a book. But on the very first page, there was a letter.   
_  
Dear Aximili,   
If you are reading this, it means you have come. I don't know why you would do such a thing, and I know that the likelihood is very small. Still, I leave this to you, just in case you do come.   
Everything I have written is true. You don't have to believe me, but I hope you do.   
There are three stories, and each tells a tale, but the three are connected in many ways.   
You deserve the truth, Aximili. And so, I tell it to you.   
  
Your nephew,   
Timothy Fangor _  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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